


Like a Virgin

by SeverinadeStrango



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Akechi Mitsuhide is His Own Warning, BDSM, Blood, Brainwashing, Character Death, Conditioning, Death, Dubious Consent, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Masochism, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:34:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23835454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverinadeStrango/pseuds/SeverinadeStrango
Summary: A virgin sacrifice, that is.
Relationships: Akechi Mitsuhide/Takenaka Hanbei, Akechi Mitsuhide/Takenaka Hanbei/Toyotomi Hideyoshi, Akechi Mitsuhide/Toyotomi Hideyoshi
Kudos: 3





	Like a Virgin

Hanbei was nothing if not observant. It was what made him such a deadly tactician, and furthermore one of Hideyoshi’s most excellent generals. Thus the first thing that he noticed about Akechi Mitsuhide was that this man had seen and experienced more than most would even dare to think of. That was not to say that he was inherently more dangerous than usual, because what made him so deadly to the point that they’d had to place his _mouth_ behind a lock was something entirely different. Rather it simply meant he would be very, very difficult to truly surprise.

How does one predict the unpredictable, Hanbei thought, and he pondered this for several days before finally coming to one very stark realization: Mitsuhide _genuinely_ believed that Nobunaga was still alive. 

That realization was what had brought them both here – Mitsuhide’s head resting in Hanbei’s lap, while the latter stroked a calm, soothing hand over his remarkably soft hair. How he managed to keep its luxurious condition while being locked up for months on end remained a mystery. 

“Mitsuhide,” Hanbei whispered, and he felt him start gently against him, “we are impressed.”

He waited, and could almost feel Mitsuhide’s breath still to a halt. Good. That was what he had intended. The normal methods of breaking another’s mind would have to be modified – physical means were all but obsolete, whips and the threats of punishment, they served another purpose entirely. How rare it was to have a hostage so willing – and one who craved the pain usually reserved for crimes of this magnitude. The punishment, instead, lay in denying him that. 

“Lord Hideyoshi has noticed your loyalty.” He said nothing more. Mitsuhide, wordlessly, pressed his forehead into the palm of Hanbei’s hand. Like a cat – a cold, starved, abandoned thing that had been stripped of any pride it once had. _If only you had shown such to your dear Lord Nobunaga._ Instead you failed him. It was the unsaid that did most of the work here when it came to this particular subject.

“Perhaps you will finally find what you are searching for within my Lord’s dream for union.” With the tips of his fingers, Hanbei nudged Mitsuhide’s chin up so that he was forced to look at him, and he admired his work – the swollen red eyes, how cracked his lips had become. It was not as if they deprived him of needs, in fact he lived in surprising comfort for a prisoner, let alone one who was a traitor of the highest degree. “Wouldn’t you want that, Mitsuhide?”

His eyes wet, Mitsuhide nodded, slowly, not because he was hesitant but because that really _was_ all he could muster. How the mighty had fallen – although to an outsider it might have looked more like salvation.

“Yes,” Mitsuhide whispered with what was left of his voice.

“Yes _what?”_ Mitsuhide flinched.

“Please allow me to see my Lord Nobunaga, Hanbei-sama.” He made to turn his face away. Hanbei stopped him with a single finger.

“Now, now,” Hanbei gently chided, “that was not what I _said,_ Mitsuhide.”

“Wh – “

“I asked you if you would _like_ to see Lord Nobunaga. I did not give you permission to grovel, Mitsuhide.” Mitsuhide closed his eyes, and Hanbei could _feel_ him fighting the urge to curl up, his newly developed defense mechanism over the past couple of weeks. “It is beneath you.”

“Yes, Hanbei-sama,” he whispered, his eyes still tightly closed, “I offer my sincere apologies.” 

“Is that so,” Hanbei said, and waited, not moving an inch, deliberately keeping even his facial expression impassive for this was the greatest torture of all, leaving Mitsuhide stranded in this abyss of nothingness, where he knew not how or where he stood in the eyes of those he clung to. “Sincerity, coming from you of all people?”

Mitsuhide hissed out a breath and Hanbei actually felt him lurch forwards against his leg as his bony chest sank inwards. “I asked you a question, Mitsuhide.” He kept petting him. 

“Yes,” he said eventually, but still much later than Hanbei would have liked, “It is all I can _offer_ you, Hanbei-sama.” Yes, Hanbei agreed. That it was. He was powerless to do anything else, and there was nothing left for him to give that he and Hideyoshi had not already taken. And that was exactly why he was here today – to clean up. He slid a hand around the back of Mitsuhide’s neck, brushing his hair out of the way, gently turning his face with a gloved hand until the back of his skull was pressed against Hanbei’s stomach. He was nearly cold to the touch. How fitting. Maybe it would make this whole process pass by quicker. 

It was as if Mitsuhide knew, because the tightness in his chest dissipated, and he curled himself up tighter, his eyes drifted closed. He looked almost peaceful. How perfect, Hanbei thought, reaching towards the table next to him and lifting the tanto blade without a sound. 

He would do it quietly, with grace and precision, just like everything else.

One stroke, quick and horizontal, across Mitsuhide’s pale throat. He gasped once, wetly. There was blood soaking Hanbei’s thighs, seeping into his clothing, and he made a mental note to have these particular garments burned later.

“You have done well, Akechi,” Hanbei whispered, “rest now.”

And with a ghost of a smile on his face, Mitsuhide did.


End file.
